


Foxgloves

by CrystalKnix



Series: From Beyond The Grave [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Ghostbur, Hurt No Comfort, Memory Loss, i am here to bring more pain, whoops my hand slipped, why am I like this XD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27956384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalKnix/pseuds/CrystalKnix
Summary: Ghostbur wanted his son.And he'll get him back through any means necessary.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot
Series: From Beyond The Grave [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047406
Comments: 12
Kudos: 69





	Foxgloves

Ghostbur paced along his desolate abode, traces of teardrops scarring the smooth stone floor. His mind was a haze of fog, his son’s word echoing neverendingly in his ears. _Oh… his sweet boy… his little champion…_

A book was clutched in his hands, the paper wrinkling beneath his harsh touch. His dead heart ached within his chest, a waterfall of blood pouring from the fatal wound that took him away from this wretched world. He shivered, colder than he usually was. The sewers were silent… lonely… it was driving him mad.

With a bitter cry, he threw the book into the roaring fireplace, collapsing upon the floor in a terrible anguish. His soot-covered fingers clawed at his hair, tugging at the strands until he felt some semblance of pain… but ghosts didn’t feel pain. His sobs tore through the room, unheard by any man or woman for night had settled upon New L’Manburg. If anyone were to awaken, they might just hear his haunting wails. His arms wrapped around himself, a pitiful try at self-comfort as the day’s memory repeated in his head.

_He trailed after Tubbo, the young president inspecting the land they had begun to build upon. Ghostbur happily followed after him, adding his occasional suggestion each time Tubbo asked for his own input._

_“Well, I think that’s all on the agenda for today.” Tubbo paused, reaching to scour through his inventory for a material Ghostbur could care less to remember. He watched as Tubbo froze in place, a startled look on his face as he brought out an enchanted netherite shovel. “Oh. Oh no. Fundy was looking for his stuff last night… I didn’t know I had them on me. Please excuse me, Ghostbur, I have to return these to him.”_

_His attention rose at the mention of Fundy. Fundy had been avoiding his presence ever since he came back… ~~he didn’t understand why and he didn’t want to.~~ The seed of an idea was planted in his mind, this was an opportunity to speak to Fundy! “Y-you know, I wouldn’t mind returning them for you.”_

_“Really? Thanks, Ghostbur!” Tubbo had dumped a variety of objects in Ghostbur’s arms, the strangely named tools making him chuckle as he tucked them into his inventory. He gave Tubbo a small farewall before heading off to find Fundy. This was perfect! This was his chance to be a good dad! To do good dad things! Then… Then maybe Fundy would look him in the eyes… wouldn’t run off in the opposite direction the moment he came into view… This would fix whatever grievance he had done when he was alive… right?_

_As he scoured through New L’Manburg for Fundy, he had stumbled upon Eret’s museum. Eret. Ghostbur shivered, a haunting memory of screams and explosions resonating in his head. He shook the thought away… and just like that, he’d forgotten what it was that had scared him so. He perused through the unfinished structure, remnants of a past he barely recognized displayed in all their beautiful glory._

_Bad images came to mind and he quickly exited the area. He didn’t want to remember. He took another stroll through New L’Manburg, his eyes scanning for a tell-tale sign of Fundy’s whereabouts. As he stepped onto the wooden pathway, the trace of a fox’s tail caught his attention. He turned to see Fundy at the center of town, scrambling between the empty space as if in search for something… And Ghostbur had what Fundy was looking for! His heart soared. Oh, Fundy would be so happy to see him! “Fundy! Hi! Hi!”_

_A pair of gold-flecked brown eyes snapped towards him, irritation flashing in their gaze as Ghostbur floated towards Fundy. Ghostbur couldn’t help but worry, dark circles had wormed their way beneath Fundy’s eyes, as if he hadn’t been sleeping for a long time. Well… Ghostbur was sure if Fundy needed it, he could concoct a sleeping potion of sorts. But anyway… “Fundy! I have your stuff! Here, these are yours, right?”_

_“Y-yeah, actually. Thanks, Wil.” Fundy winced, taking his stuff from Ghostbur. His face reddened as an excited wheeze tore through his throat as Ghostbur handed him his schlong. “Oh… my bow is missing.”_

_Ghostbur looked at the bow in his inventory. “Uh, sorry. I don’t have it.”_

_He didn’t understand why he’d lied, but Fundy could make a new bow, couldn’t he? Ghostbur hardly had anything of Fundy’s that he could hold onto… surely an old bow wouldn’t be missed, right? Yeah._

_“Thanks, Wil. I really… I really appreciate this.” Ghostbur held his breath as Fundy gave him a small smile, hesitant as it may be. Fundy smiled at him! He did something good, didn’t he? Fundy turned to leave but… but Ghostbur didn’t want him to leave. They just started talking again! He trailed after Fundy, the hint of a question dancing on his tongue. Fundy’s sharp glare turned to him. All previous gratitude gone. “What?”_

_“I did a… I did a good dad thing, didn’t I, Fundy?” He held his hands together, the heated scrutiny of Fundy’s gaze piercing through his ghostly form. Fundy’s shoulders shook in fury or in another emotion, Ghostbur couldn’t quite tell. Then Fundy looked away, a look of pity in his eyes as he spoke the next few words._

_“I’m getting adopted, Wilbur.” The world turned deathly still, a tenseness in the air as Ghostbur’s felt the ground beneath his feet collapse. Fundy scurried a little bit away from him, clutching the sleeves of his jacket ~~Ghostbur had made him that jacket~~ as he looked everywhere but at him. “Eret came up to me yesterday with an offer. He’s offered to adopt me since you’re… We’re just waiting for Phil to sign.”_

_“Eret… We don’t like Eret… I-it’s in the song, Fundy.”_

_Fundy tries to explain, but Ghostbur couldn’t hear his words, static crackled in his ears as he turned and ran off. He couldn’t look at Fundy. He couldn’t bear it… He… He… He knows he had a talk with Phil after that, holding back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Then he wandered away from New L’Manburg, stumbling upon a familiar yet nightmarish lived-in ravine. He looks at the myriad of buttons on the walls, a conclusion forming in his mind. Fundy needed a dad… and Ghostbur wanted his son._

He floats up from the ground, he’d made up his mind.

He couldn’t let Eret take his son. He couldn’t let some _traitor_ steal his son from him. He heads over to the materials he had gathered as soon as he had left that ravine. He had everything he needed. _~~Niki had even helped him gather some of the berries, that was kind of her to do!~~_ He just had to put them all together.

His son would understand. He’d understand.

Ghostbur just wanted to protect his son.

_‘This is for my son.’_ He thinks, the foxglove held tightly in his hand. _‘He needs me. I’ll protect him.’_

.

.

.

Ghostbur watched in the distance.

His son was pacing in front of Eret’s castle, his ears and tail frantic with nervous energy. The ghost hoped he wasn’t the cause for his son’s distress. He’d hate for his son to be suffering because of him.

The picnic basket weighed heavy in his hands, guilt gnawing at his undead insides as he recalled the sweet smile his son had when he heard the **_happy_** and **_joyful_** news. He could still turn around, run home and cook something of actual worth. Tears pricked at his eyes. How could he go through with this? Could he go through with this?

_“With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, fuck Eret…”_ The soft tune seemingly echoed within the breeze, though he knew himself to be alone. No. Ghostbur had to do this. Eret… Eret was a bad person. It’s in the song for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t let his son be adopted by some-some person who had done something against their nation. Eret was a **_traitor_**. They didn’t deserve to be anywhere near his son. He remembers trailing after Phil earlier on in the day, invisible to all gazes as he slipped within the castle right after his father.

_He floated along the halls, surveying every detail that could cause harm upon his son. ~~Why did this castle have towers? His son could fall from one dammit.~~ He took note of the staircases, the crystalline chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, and the thick red carpet that suffocated the floor beneath their feet._

_His son could trip on these carpets._

_The staircases are too high, what if his son tripped on the way down?_

_What if a chandelier fell and crushed his son?_

_Why are there so many candelabras? His son could burn himself!_

_~~Wha~~ _ _~~― Were those actual flamingos?~~ _

_Those paintings looked as if they were staring at him… what if they dragged his son into the paintings?!_

_Why does that bed have a roof? What if it falls on his son? What then, huh?!_

_The windows were easily opened… and with such a high drop…!_

_That servant looked at his son a little bit too suspiciously…_

_The castle was stifling hot, how could his son even breath in here?_

_~~Eret wasn’t even a real king.~~ _

_Ghostbur was sure Phil would tell Eret ‘no’, that the castle was too dangerous. He stayed out of the room as the two of them signed the papers, choosing to watch over his son in the meantime._

_He wished he could pull his son into his arms and run. Run far away from there, perhaps even far away from New L’Manburg. It’d be just the two of them, almost as if nothing had ever happened. They’d be family again… though without Sally… No. No. Sally would forever live within their hearts._

_When he saw Phil and Eret leave the room, warm smiles upon their faces, his poor undead heart shattered into pieces. Phil patted Eret on the back, a congratulations leaving his tongue as he left the new parent-son duo with each other. His son had all but thrown himself into Eret’s open arms, a laugh bubbling from his throat as Eret spun him around. Ghostbur knows he should be happy, content that his son had found joy despite the despair-filled days of before. Yet… as he listens to Eret call **his son** as his… all he sees is red. Fundy was **his son**._

_And if he can’t have Fundy, then no one…_

_No one can have Fundy._

Ghostbur snapped out from the vision, purpose filling his metaphorical veins as he floated towards his son. His son looked up at him, a curious look on his face as he looks at the picnic basket in Ghostbur’s hands. Ghostbur forced a smile on his face. He just needed to get his son away from here. Then they’ll be together again, this time without all that emotional baggage that Ghostbur didn’t want them to have.

They’d be happy. His son wouldn’t have to worry about being abandoned anymore… and Ghostbur wouldn’t have to watch as his son is torn away from his side by some **_traitor_**. He leads them toward a far-off river, the same river they used to visit before the war… before Sally died… His son looks bored, not that Ghostbur minded. After their picnic, why… his son wouldn’t look at him like that ever again. He could barely contain his excitement, topics filtering through his mind as he tries to start a conversation.

They reach the river bank…

His son snaps out of his own reverie at the sound of Ghostbur’s voice, much to his joy. He lets his son peek inside the basket, lets him take out the… unappetizing salad. Ghostbur watches as his son finally takes a bite, doesn’t miss the way his son blanches at the bitter taste… but his son continues on eating.

Ghostbur lets out a sigh of relief, he no longer had anything to fear. His son will be with him soon enough.

He lets his controlled fury direct the conversation, mentioning the traitor’s name to see how his son would react. He can’t say that he isn’t disappointed and regretful when his son’s own anger rises to defend his new… parent. He can’t say he doesn’t feel a twinge of pain when his son collapses from the poison.

His arms curl around his weeping son, reassuring words flowing from his mouth as he tries to console his dying son. He listens to his son’s shallow breathing, listens as they stutter out into silence. He presses his head against his son’s chest, feeling the rapid beat of his son’s heart as it begins to slow down. He holds his son tight against his form, guilt drowning the momentary triumph he had felt a few seconds ago.

_“I’m sorry.”_

.

.

.

There’s a song on the tip of his tongue, a familiar tune that he once sang as a sweet lullaby.

The clouds begin to fade into a kaleidoscope of color as the sun disappears in the distance.

His mind is foggy.

He doesn’t remember why he is near a river.

He doesn’t remember a single memory of the day.

He doesn’t understand why Fundy is lying so peacefully on the ground.

He doesn’t understand why there’s the remains of a rotting salad in the grass.

He continues to sing.

He doesn’t want to remember.

He doesn’t want to understand.

“D-dad?”

He turns around.

A ghostly visage of his son looks up at him, curious and oh so innocent.

A satisfied grin worms its way through his lips. _~~He doesn’t know why he’s so happy.~~_

“Hello, son.”

**Author's Note:**

> Help girl, I'm writing more Fundy angst AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-
> 
> So, yeah this is a Ghostbur POV of the fic 'Clouds' and 'Clouds V.2.' This is one of the many other stories I plan to write within this AU, but for now... have this pain. (This is what happens when my country decides that the 8th of December is a holiday).
> 
> Hope you guys like this one and I have added this into a new series titled 'From Beyond the Grave'. Do tell me if there's any other scenarios you guys want me to explore within this AU (though I will be making a fic where everyone reacts accordingly to Fundy... ehem, dying).


End file.
